


Forever Is a Promise

by Ariss_Tenoh



Category: Coldfire Trilogy - C. S. Friedman
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 05:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2298239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariss_Tenoh/pseuds/Ariss_Tenoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life in Merentha is not what Damien expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever Is a Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Jan 10th 2013. For Alice who asked for "Coldfire/the end of the world"

Damien sat on a stone bench in the gardens of Merentha Castle and wondered at the strange turns and twists Fate led him on: from priest and warrior battling demons and former mad prophets, to child keeper and sitter. He looked around for his charge and found the boy sitting among the tall grass, holding a piece of fruit in his hand and trying to entice the deer closer. Damien didn't think the child knew what he was doing, the power of his Working flowed like a small stream of intent and warm emotion between him and the deer. The animal finally stepped closer but decided the boy's bright golden hair was a more tempting treat. The boy laughed; a clear high note in the evening sky. It made Damien smile even as he moved forward to dissuade the deer from chewing the boy's hair; he doubted the Neocountess would accept his explanation of an animal attack.

 

Predictably, the deer bolted. The boy pouted and looked set to cry and Damien swept the troublesome one into his arms. Pale grey eyes looked accusingly at him even as they filled with mock tears.

 

"No, summoning animals to you is not a wise idea," Damien said, "Don't think those tears of yours will work on me."

 

The child's eyes narrowed and he buried his face in Damien's broad shoulder.

 

Definitely sulking, Damien thought. Amusement and irritation warring within his chest. He carried the boy and walked into the castle. The weight of history in this castle never failed to awe and humble him and the castle's architecture and furnishings spoke of the creator's exquisite taste and ability. A pang of sadness hit Damien at the thought of the castle's first lord. When the battle had ended and Damien found himself alone in Jaggonath, no longer priest or healer, bereft of his faith and the fae, he very nearly drowned his sorrow and himself in hard liquor and fist-fights with strangers, until one day.. six months ago… when he felt the Call. He couldn't believe it but there were some sorcerers who swore it was still possible to Work the fae if one was willing to risk everything for it, especially one's life. So he had travelled west following that insistent tug on his mind and the dreams full of a feeling of longing and loss... only to find himself furtively entering Merentha Castle and looking down into a small crib where a child was making cheerful noises and reaching toward him with chubby arms. He preferred to conveniently forget the ensuing alarm, embarrassment, and loud shouting that followed when the guards discovered him in the young lord's room.

 

"There you are, Ser Vryce," came the pleasant voice of Lady Narilka Tarrant.

 

Damien stopped in the Corridor of Mirrors and waited for her to come closer. He noticed the boy had finally fallen asleep. Lady Narilka reached him and they walked together toward the boy's room. She glanced at the sleeping form of her son in his arms and smiled, "You're so good with him. I can't express my gratitude enough to you. We couldn't find a willing nurse or maid to watch him and I hadn't realised the social duties that would ensue after marrying Andrys."

 

He thought about what she wasn't saying; the servants whispering of strange sounds and lights in the child's room, of stuffed toys moving on their own and broken furniture when the child cried. No maid was willing to be the child's caretaker and the people in Merentha whispered that this was what came of the young lord marrying a woman from outside the Church. Damien thought Narilka handled the matter well with selective deafness and polite deflections. Obfuscation was a necessary skill for an aristocrat's wife.

 

Damien placed the boy in his crib and tucked the blankets around him. Not yet two years of age and already such a handful, he thought wryly.

 

Lady Narilka bent to place a kiss on her son's brow. "Goodnight, Gerald," she whispered.

 

He glanced back at the figure curled in the crib before he followed the lady out and thought back on fate and fortune again. Everything seemed hopeless and without meaning after the events in Mount Shaitan. He didn't realise the depth of his feelings and friendship for the being called Gerald Tarrant until that last sacrifice. By then, it was too late. Much too late. Damien felt as if his world had ended and he'd been stripped of everything he held dear: his identity, his old life, and this hated enemy turned irreplaceable friend.

 

One day soon, he would ask Gerald Tarrant how he'd managed to cheat death yet again. Damien smiled in the darkness, hope warming his soul.

 

~End ~


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